Page 22 of Her Last Refuge

“Right.”

“No, I don’t know him, I know the name, but not the man.”

“Did you ever have any long conversations with Ms. Durst?” Novak asked.

“No. Nothing beyond just the casual small talk.”

Rachel and Novak paused for a moment before Rachel casually redirected the conversation. “We understand that after your mother passed, you made a scene. Cornering families, from what we hear."

Roberts cringed as he nodded. It was clear that this was very embarrassing for him. "Yeah. I did. I was angry, and I didn't handle it well, and Colt had every right to fire me for it. That doesn't mean I went back there and hurt anybody. I haven't set foot on that property since the day they walked me out."

"You made a scene, though," Novak said. "Cornering families, from what we hear."

Rachel leaned forward and said, “Forgive me for being so blunt, but could you tell us where you were last night and three nights ago as well?”

"Working." He didn't hesitate. "I'm on third shift now, over at a distribution warehouse across the county. Nine to six. Every night, five nights a week, since I started. I clock in, I clock out. It's all in the system."

It then occurred to Rachel that they’d caught him getting ready for work, not coming home from work.

"You'd be fine with us confirming that?" Rachel asked.

"Go ahead. My supervisor's there most nights. He can pull it up for you. I've got a shift starting at nine, if you want to just follow me over."

"That won't be necessary," Rachel said. "If you can give us his name and a number where we can reach him, that'll be enough."

"Oh. Yeah, sure." Roberts pulled his phone from his back pocket and scrolled for a second. "Marcus Feldt. He's the shift supervisor. I'll just—here." He read off a number, and Rachel typed it into her own phone as he spoke.

"And you're positive you worked both nights in question?" Novak said. "No shift swaps, no calling out sick, nothing like that."

"Positive. I haven't missed a shift since I started there. Honestly, I can't afford to. You can check the schedule against the actual clock times if you want. Those don't lie."

Rachel nodded, feeling confident that there would be no issues. When suspects gave information about alibis and contacts so willingly, it usually meant that they were innocent. "Last thing. Did Howard Pelham's name mean anything to you at all? Even in passing? Somebody mentioning him, a chart you might have touched, anything."

Roberts looked irritated for the first time since their visit. "No. I'm telling you, I don't know that name. I wish I could give you something better, but I've got nothing on him."

"That's fine," Rachel said. "We appreciate you talking with us."

"Yeah. Of course." He walked them to the door, and something in his posture had eased slightly from where it had started, the wariness giving way to something closer to exhaustion. "I hope you catch whoever's doing this. I really do. I don’t think there was anything like murder involved in my mother’s passing but…I just never really trusted that place, you know?"

Neither of them said anything to that, though Novak offered a cursory nod. Back in the car, Novak pulled the door shut and glanced at Rachel. "You want to call Feldt now, or wait till we're back on the highway?"

"Now," Rachel said, already dialing. “If there is something that pops up, I’d rather already be here to follow-up with Roberts.” She put the call on speaker mode and set the phone on the console between them.

It rang three times before a gruff voice picked up. "Hello?"

“Hi, is this Marcus Feldt?”

“It is. Who is this?”

"Mr. Feldt, this is Special Agent Rachel Gift, FBI. I'm here with Agent Ethan Novak. We just spoke with Craig Roberts, and we need to confirm his attendance on two specific nights."

“Oh, okay. I can do that. I hope he’s not in some kind of trouble. That man is a damned hard worker.”

"We're just verifying information as part of an investigation," Rachel said. "It would help if you could check your records for us now, if you have access."

"Yeah, hold on, let me pull it up." There was a lot of shuffling in the background, followed by the sound of fingers typing along a keyboard. "Alright, what nights?"

“Last night, and three nights ago.”